Light Within a Neverending Void
by The Cake Genius
Summary: Aranea is exhausted with being dead, and Vriska is so appealingly filled with life, even without a heartbeat... [Serketcest, mentions of past Aranea/Meenah and Vriska/Terezi]


**Disclaimer: I in no way own this material.**

**A/N: For the record, I do not particularly ship this... I just thought it would be an interesting subject to explore. Writing Aranea is a little strange, because it is both like and not like third-person omniscience. Please let me know what you think of this work, because I plan to write more Aranea-centric things. Feedback, as always, is greatly appreciated!**

* * *

Aranea swayed in the belly of the massive ship, rocking side to side as if she was trying to become one with the vessel. She sat o her bunk in complete darkness. The lack of light, for once, was comforting, cool, against her tired eyes.

She passed a hand over her face and smelled the musky scent of wood. She'd been spending more and more time alone these days, and she felt restless; she'd run out of books to read eight times. Maybe she had become to accustomed to being dead, but she always felt cold- cold and tired.

Vriska's warm, slender arms wrapped around her from behind, warmth wrapping around Aranea's body. Her descendant had been killed only so recently, compared to the seemingly infinite sweeps that Aranea had spent traversing over the same dream bubble, and maybe it was because of this that Vriska felt so _alive. _She was strength; she was fire.

Aranea felt so weak.

What she truly wanted, what she missed the most, was breathing, and feeling her heart beat. She existed, but of course, she no longer lived. She missed sighing and gasping and the moments between kisses. She missed feeling a _thump, thump, thump_ against her bones when she reached the climax of a novel, and she missed feeling Meenah's heartbeat against her back as she held her in this same position.

These were sensations that she'd almost forgotten about... but not quite. Not quite yet.

Vriska whispered in her ear. "This darkness reminds me of an old friend." She lay her head on Aranea's shoulder, and she knew her descendant was talking about the blind troll she's met a while back- the one she'd helped. She had known that Vriska wanted her to see again, out of spite towards the tealblood. In fact, the animosity that radiated off of Vriska was sometimes too strong for Aranea to handle.

She had liked Terezi in the brief period of time that she'd met her, but she had given off an aura of such tremendous sadness...

Aranea knew the feeling, that constant sensation of loss and loneliness, like a tugging hunger right below her breastbone.

Vriska nipped at her neck. Their hair mingled, and they rocked together.

* * *

Aranea could feel Meenah's jealousy from the upper deck. She highly doubted that her friend was actually using the facilities on the ship. She sensed pain in her chest and her hands.

She's always been fond of Meenah's pain. It was an angry, defiant thing that Aranea felt she could hold in her hands, cradle to her chest and sing soft words to. It was an anger that used to blossom in the cage of her skull, so pure that made her blush.

Meenah always felt cold now. She was trying to remain tangible and alive. In fact, when they had first died together, Meenah had been a lot like Vriska.

Aranea turned to that girl now as she stood at the prow of her ship, gazing out at the sea as if she owned it. Her coat and hair flapped gorgeously in the wind, and her pride and ambition swelled within her as if she was breathing her emotions in full.

Meenah came up from below deck with mottled, fuchsia hands.

* * *

She felt Meenah coming before she saw her, and she felt her back hit the side of the ship before she could avoid her.

The heiress kissed her so hard, her lips bruised.

_I want you back_, Meenah thought to her with desperate force. She had learned how to concentrate her thoughts to Aranea long ago, private communication with the sanctity that only moirails could posess.

Meenah no longer knew what her feelings were for the blueblood, but Aranea knew. Of course she knew.

It was useful sometimes, not needing air. Meenah kissed and kissed her, pairs of glasses grinding together, lipsticks blending into a dark, bruised color. She kissed her until she was as sore and blank as she felt in her soul.

Aranea did not respond.

* * *

For as long as she could remember, Aranea had felt alone. It was the knowledge she carried like a stone in her heart that opened up room for her loneliness. She and Meenah used to share their loneliness sacredly, like secrets, or so Aranea felt.

She understood that Vriska's only way of sharing her powers was through petty tricks of control, and later, violent acts of martyrdom. She knew that Vriska missed her rivalry with a passion, but also with a passive resolution.

_Gone now_, she could catch from her as they lay like spoons, like puzzle pieces, in the dark. The same thoughts would turn over and over in Vriska's mind each night: _Gone now... needed to happen... gone now... needed to happen... _Vriska wanted to hold together the world, wear it like a precious stone.

Aranea was so tired of holding things together; Meenah's anger, her relationships, responsibility. She gave herself over and let herself be held.

She liked being held by Vriska, because her fellow Serket understood what Meenah could never quite grasp, no matter how dearly she had held the pressure of her obligation to rule her planet. Vriska understood how it felt to never be able to cleanse herself of her power.

_I've got it now, so I might as well use it._

If she held Vriska very, very tightly, her chest ached.

Of course, they both ached already.

But there was a comfort that cam with that ache, a drowning comfort that brought uncontrollable tears to her eyes.

_You understand._ She burried her face in Vriska's hair, smothering herself and sobbing silently. _You sweet, fierce girl, you understand._


End file.
